After my mother remarried, we moved in with her husband. The experiences started almost immediately. You would walk though out the house and come across a cold spot. You could hear footsteps walking through the house, sometime close or when the house was empty, though no one would be there were the footsteps would be heard.
All the women in my family are psychically sensitive. We have foresight, and we can see those who have passed, and we're empathetic. It is kind of like walking into this house and putting a large magnet onto our backs, then walking into a room with sharp, loose metal. There usually isn't anything good that can or will come of that experience.
My mother noticed shortly after moving into the house that my brother and I were talking and playing with someone that she couldn't see. She talked to family and friends about it, calling it cute and imaginative. Then things started to escalate. We would sit and color, and set a place for Mary, as we called her, and would stay up past nap and bed times to talk to her. Then it got worse. Things would disappear (keys, the remote, pens, etc). At first my brother and I were blamed for the disappearances. Then one afternoon, Kenny's (my mother's husband) pipe disappeared. He was a very harsh person and we were automatically blamed for the disappearance.
It reappeared an hour later, where he had put it last, right after he finished yelling at us. Then the radio turned on and the volume turned all the way over, busting the brand new speakers that had just been set up. Me and brother were in my bedroom at the time playing, so we couldn't be blamed.
It was then my mother decided to do research on the house and came across several people. The little girl, Mary, the old woman, Mary's grandmother, the old sailor (who had had the house built) and the teenager. All of whom died in the house. (More on the other three in future stories.)
It was then my mother started to take a real look around, and saw some things that didn't sit well with her. She had a priest of the Catholic Church come and do a blessing on the house. That had no effect since at the moment nothing had happened that wanted to hurt us.
After the blessing, my mother started to see Mary around the house. Both by herself and while she was playing with us. As we grew, Mary stopped visiting my brother as often, but I still saw her, though she didn't ask to play with me as often as I started to grow into my teen years.
I often wonder why she chose to stay. She died in my brothers bedroom of asthma and pneumonia, and instead of going "home" she chose to stay in the house, long after the family sold it and the grandmother passed away. I need no help with this, just sharing some of my experiences with you. And Mary, well she was the first that I saw.